Fire

Number of The Beast

You manage to get the boat moored correctly, grab your things and head back to the van.

"Fuck!" You hear Eddie exclaim as he gets to the side door, "Urgh, idiot!"

"What's wrong?" You say concerned.

"I left the van open." He whines and starts searching through everything. You assist where you can, he'll call out something random, and you try to find it until you exhaust his mental list.

"Weird...they didn't take anything" he stays still rustling around, "ah wait, he picks up your last Tupperware box and holds it up. It's empty and busted open, "Maybe just some impatient stoners after my stash?"

"Well, I know it's like a violation of your stuff, but at least it's all still here," you say, stepping to the back of the van.

Squelch. Is the last thing you hear before you are rocketed onto your back, staring at the van ceiling, "Ewww gross, what the fuck?" Your skin crawls, only imagining what you just fell into. You get up and open the back doors jumping outside, trying to wipe most of whatever it was from your clothes.

"Eddie, can you help me, please. I'm covered in something." You say, flicking the goo from your arms and hands onto the floor. Disgusted didn't really cover the sensation you were feeling. Repugnant, maybe, but no words seem to cover the feeling of wanting to peel your whole outer layers touching this stuff away and sitting in the shower for a week.

Eddie goes to follow you out the way you came. You throw your hands up, sending some goo into the sky that lands on your head, "No, Eddie, STOP! Go the other way" your command does the trick and saves him from a fate similar to yours.

"Fucking gross", you mumble to yourself, still trying to wipe your arms and legs down.

"Oh! Oh no!" Eddie puts a hand to his face, "What the fuck?" He trots over to help you but is highly amused at the same time, "Oh honey, I think maybe this prank was meant for me."

"Eddie, what the fuck even is this stuff. Honestly, I'm thinking the worst and feeling really, REALLY, grossed out right now."

"I think we can rule the worst things out." He says, wiping some from your back, "probably just a ton of lube or something."

"Lube??!! Oh, come on, seriously. Why would someone do that?"

"Because it's kind of funny", Eddie says, struggling not to laugh.

"All right, sure, laugh it up, why don't ya," you say, putting your hands on your hips, and immediately pulling them away, causing the grossest noise you ever heard. Then, you close your eyes and pray for the ground to swallow you up.

"Hey, listen, listen. I can't help you with the whole situation, but I do have a bunch of hellfire t-shirts in the back, all different sizes. Maybe we could make something out of that?" He says, stifling his laughter in an attempt to comfort you.

"Can you just bring them out here, so I don't take all this back in the van with me?" you say, starting to shed your layers, "maybe something to put my gross clothes in, please?"

He nods, hurries back to the van, and brings out some boxes and a bucket.

"I'll pay you back for the tees, Eddie. Sorry about this."

You tie up your hair, dump all your clothes as quickly as possible, save for underwear into the bucket, and quickly dive into the t-shirts.

You find one to fit your top half and grab a second that you rip the collar of and climb into like a skirt, tying the sleeves like a belt. It looks bizarre, but at least you are at least 90% less goo now.